


Be Italian.

by skinnylittlered



Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, hiddlestoners
Genre: Comedy, Courtship, F/M, Film Festival, Humor, Humorous Ending, Implied Sexual Content, Smoking, delayed gratification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 02:37:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4811777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinnylittlered/pseuds/skinnylittlered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While at a film festival Tom meets a girl. In his mind, sex is bound to happen sooner or later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Italian.

What Tom Hiddleston believed delineated him from his sex – well, most of it, actually, since, egotistic as he may be, not even he was that big-headed as to believe himself above his entire brethren; most of it, maybe, but in no circumstance _all_ of it – was the fact that never in his span of existence has he imposed his masculine carnality on whatever woman had caught his eye in a more salacious way than others.

Tom Hiddleston clearly ought to put regency novels aside for a moment and see for himself that said particularity is not so much of a virtue as it is the lawful method of pursuing a relationship (any kind of relationship) and that the vast majority of the stronger sex has already conformed to it long before his underdeveloped retinae has first been bothered by light.

It goes without saying that Tom Hiddleston also ought to maybe cease disregarding colloquialisms as a hardly befitting of a man with his educational pedigree form of expression and take the plain and simple – albeit metaphorical – advice which his friends have on numerous occasions bestowed upon him, namely that of _pulling his head out of his arse_. Yes, that would aid to his unfortunate position quite a lot.

Tom Hiddleston has met a girl.

It was during one of those formal receptions in the course of a movie festival that he’d met the wonderful brunette. He had been making the customary rounds when, fumbling around his pockets for the lighter he could swear he’d took from home, knowing he’d give in to the petty but oh, so refreshing practice that social smoking was, especially after having listened to one too many big suits complain about their wives or children, she nearly set his eyebrows on fire, in an attempt to casually present him with the solution to his distress.

Startled, he took a step back and only realised what had been going on when he heard the throaty _cazzo_ of the figure next to him, a woman neither petite nor all that vertical, tits and ass galore, olive skin robust with lively fullness. Wrap LBD, pointed toe heels, dark red lips.

“ _Mi scusi_ , this thing is either not working or nearly sets you on fire. No in between.”

As he was looking at her attempting to successfully work the contraption as to avoid causing a headline appropriate incident, Tom realised he was absolutely besotted with the creature beside him, an individual about whom he knew virtually nothing about other than the rough estimate of her bra cup, which, in all fairness, was an aptitude in the possession of most people he’d made his acquaintance with in his life and that was a number somewhere in the low thousands.

Breasts are not that hard to figure out once one gets the gist of it.

But what had intrigued Tom Hiddleston that night was not the impressive size of the pretty Italian’s boobage, nor was it the witty back and forth remarks they delighted themselves with for as much as their mutual engagements allowed them to. It was the fact that, at the end of the event, he found himself bereft in his hotel room, no mattress buddy to entertain his exalted libido, left alone to grudgingly tend to the erection he had no causal contribution in triggering and concoct a plan of somehow, should the opportunity present itself again, make it so it has a different outcome. But how can a person tailor their best laid plans based on a person they hardly even know?

Two weeks and many conquering strategies miserably failed later, the actor concludes that the only way of getting the beautiful Italian to get his intentions and either succumb to his charm or just reject him and let him have his peace already – although he’s fairly sure the poor woman is utterly oblivious of his maybe too subtle devices of wooing her –, is for him to play in offense rather than defence and put her literally face to face with the situation at hand. It was funny and exciting in the beginning, but now his right arm is constantly stiff and he can’t possibly have that for any longer than it already has been, not only for the sake of his musculature and mental peace, but integrity as well and his inherently British honour and pride cannot permit such disgrace.

 

***

 

When Allegra, who had just enough time before for her to be all the more surprised with the turnout of events ordered room service, opened the door she all but froze in place with surprise, cigarette falling pathetically on the shiny parquet of the fancy lodging her employer had graciously provided for her.

Academy awarded actor Tom Hiddleston in nearly all his non-cinematic naked glory was standing on her threshold, a sequined bow shielding his much sought after nether bits from the officious stares of every male in the hall and the adoring ones of all the females, wishing her a merry Christmas in the middle of September. Unmoving still, Allegra wondered exactly how in the ever loving fuck had he managed to step in the damn Ritz-Carlton looking like that, but then remembered that, hell, he was a world-class recognised actor, and those motherfuckers got away with pretty much anything they put their minds to, hardly ever having to answer equally in front of the law or their lower class fellow citizens of Terra.

And to think such a specimen went at such great lengths to nail her.

And such a fine one nonetheless…

Obviously, in spite of her being really casual about it to the point where she seemed nonchalant enough for Tom to think such gestures appropriate in order to, as accurately as possible, express his intentions of copulating with her, Allegra had clearly noted the motive behind his incessant yet tasteful courtship. Up until this point, the man had done nothing resembling his forcing himself on her, or imposing his derisiveness, but hinted towards his attraction in the most gallant way possible. And even this sudden boldness of manner failed in phasing her (never mind offending her); she found herself to be, if anything, rather amused by the whole scenario.

Finally noticing the anticipative look on his face, she made way for his entrance and locked the door behind him, whistling as the well-defined shape of his obviously worked out buttocks.

“Damn, Hiddleston, those look good.”

He smirked in retaliation, but said nothing for a few seconds, in which he appeared to be thinking of how exactly to best phrase his gesture. One step ahead, Allegra deadpanned in her scholarly, melodiously accented English, lighting herself another cigarette.

“I know you want to fuck me, Tom. I knew it before… _this_ all happened.”

His features dropped sadly, his entire posture sagging with disappointment.

“Then, if you knew…”

“Ah, no, _mio caro_ , don’t do that. I want to fuck you, too,” she says, brushing her lips against his. “I want to fuck you so bad.”

 

***

 

As his knocks become unanswered, the busboy pushing a cartful of food, although an employee of one of the most recognisable hotel chains in the world, damns, for the millionth time that day, his job and the rich assholes that its customers tend to be, muttering hardly concealed profanities as he retraces his steps back to the staff quarters, leaving the in front of the door, no feeling the hollowness of his pocket, provided the lack of tip for his impeccable services.

**Author's Note:**

> I am only one day late, you guys! I initially had something else planned, but this motherfucking bunny was skipping on my brain and I just had to do it. 
> 
> So I pulled a Nike and I just did it *shit-eating grin*
> 
> This is actually based on a prompt.
> 
> Naturally unbeta-ed. There’s some tense-related shit going on there but I’ll be on it stat.
> 
> Just not today.
> 
> Anyway, there it is, dudes, hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.
> 
> Thank you for reading, lovelies, you stay golden *hand feeds you croissants*


End file.
